


A Few Thorough and Incomplete Reports

by EdnaV, rw_eaden



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale is Bad at Being an Angel (Good Omens), Canon Compliant, Crowley is Good at Being a Demon (Good Omens), Epistolary, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, POV Aziraphale (Good Omens), POV Crowley (Good Omens), Scene: Paris 1793 (Good Omens), Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:54:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26673988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdnaV/pseuds/EdnaV, https://archiveofourown.org/users/rw_eaden/pseuds/rw_eaden
Summary: Crowley receives a commendation for a bad job well done, Aziraphale receives a reprimand for too many frivolous miracles, and the two wind up in Paris at the same time and in need of excuses to cover their own behinds.A story told in a series of letters, commendations, and memos, in which Aziraphale lies, Crowley pines, and neither can admit how much they miss each other.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 106
Collections: GO-Events POV Pairs Works





	A Few Thorough and Incomplete Reports

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the GO Events POV Pairs event! The prompt we chose was "writing reports" and decided that an epistolary style was would work best for our fic. It has been a fun and challenging process and working together was tons of fun and very exciting.  
> EdnaV wrote from Crowley's POV and rw_eaden wrote from Aziraphale's. 
> 
> A world of thanks to our lovely beta, cassie-oh!

####  **_16th October 1793_ **

**To:** Crawly

 **From:** Dagon, Lord of the Files, Master of Torment, Duke of Hell

 **Subject:** Commendation

Given the increase in soul intake (both current and potential) due to the recent development in France, we hereby bestow a commendation, first class, to Tempter Crawly.

 **Signed:** Duke Dagon (for: Satan, the Adversary)

* * *

####  **_16th October 1793_ **

**To:** The Principality Aziraphale 

**From:** The Office of Heavenly Invoices

 **Subject:** Unauthorised and Excessive Miracles 

Principality Aziraphale, 

Given your recent report and a check against our logs, we have come to the conclusion that there has been an excessive number of useless and unnecessary miracles from your station in the last hundred or so years. These deeds include but are not limited to: 

One (1) umbrella, miracled on July the 16th, 1783 

One (1) umbrella, dematerialised on July the 16th, 1783 (ten minutes later)

Twelve (12) dried puddles at the feet of carriages from January 1790 to June 1790 

One (1) fire in the flue of a chimney on Drury Lane, put out on November the 20th, 1791 

The banishment of one (1) walking cane of Charles Thurgood to the planet Mars on January the 8th, 1792 

The occurrence of sudden, onset amnesia to one Charles Thurgood on January the 8th, 1792 

400 (Four Hundred) units of human currency, English, spontaneously created on January the 8th, 1792

The transfer of 400 (Four Hundred) units of human currency, English, into a music box owned by one Martha Whittycomb, formerly Thurgood 

One (1) horseshoe property secured via miraculous intervention on February 5th, 1792 

4,836 (Four-thousand, eight hundred, thirty-six) cups of tea, coffee, and other beverages warmed to approximately 71.1 degrees Celsius from 1693-1793. 

Please see the attached itemised list for further details. 

Remember that while small thinking might be the aims of the Adversary, we are above such petty uses of our divine power. Our miracles are for the glory of Heaven and as such, we do not condone such minor and inconsequential uses of our power. It behooves you to use your powers wisely; to defeat the Adversary, and to intervene only when Heaven’s chosen are on the line. 

And above all, stop using your power to heat tea and pastry. You’ve already indulged enough in human luxuries for several lifetimes, don’t you think? 

\- The Archangel Uriel   
The Office of Heavenly Invoices 

* * *

####  **Jardin du Luxembourg, 17th October 1793**

_It was all going so well,_ thought Crowley. _Nice weather, good food, people doing their best to right some wrongs. And, of course, someone wants to grab more power than the others, and they always find out that threatening and killing their fellow human beings is the fastest way to get it._

He kicked the grass of the Luxembourg Gardens as if it were personally responsible for the latest developments in French politics, before deciding that he didn’t want to waste time or energy on a miracle to clean the new shoes. The wig was annoying enough. Not to mention the breeches. And everything else, come to think of it. Even the weather wasn’t that great.

 _London,_ he realised. _I miss London. Sure, the food’s worse, but it’s not like I need food._

He stubbornly refused to think why he was missing London. After all, it’s not like the appeal of the greatest city in the world was solely in the hands of one single angel. _It’s not like my life turns around Aziraph..._

_Oh, shit. Shitshitshitshit._

Something in the air. A shift. And it was _not_ the weather.

 _What the Heaven is_ he _doing_ here?

_And where in the blessed Antichrist’s name is..._

Without checking for passersby, he clicked his fingers.

* * *

####  **_17th October 1793_ **

**To:** Head Office

 **From:** Crowley

 **Subject:** Self-righteous bastard ahoy

Sprung a nobleman out of the Bastille, sent the executioner to the gallows instead. Guy’s name’s Jean Claude. The executioner, I mean. You should recognise him by the fancy clothes (white satin shoes and brocade garters, very sexy) and the “are we the baddies?” face.

 **Signed:** C.

* * *

####  **_18th October 1793_ **

**To:** Head Office

 **From:** Crowley

 **Subject:** Shenanigans

Skipped queue at crepes stall, unseen. Asked for a tasting of everything. The seller was confused for the rest of the day and got into a fight with his boss.

Didn’t pay for a three-hour-long dinner. The owner of the restaurant took it out on the waiter, who took it out on his girlfriend, who decided that she didn’t deserve his shit (she didn’t) and that the best way to dump him was to tell his wife about their affair (it was).

Spent the night talking out loud (like humans do when they’re drunk) and moving around the furniture (like humans do when they’re trying not to think about something, or maybe they invite someone they like over but they’re too cowardly to make a move and they start talking about interior design) in the best room of the Fraternité Inn, in the Marais district. Stole coffee and breakfast from the room service of a couple on their honeymoon — first argument of their married life, I expect that she’ll bring it up for the next ten years.

 **Signed:** C.

* * *

####  **_25th October 1793_ **

**To:** Head Office

 **From:** Crowley

 **Subject:** Spreading misery

Things in Paris were going your way on their own, so I’ve decided to expand the scope of my operations.

Left the city on a coach headed north. Annoyed the coachman and sowed discord by tempting each passenger to request a stop at a different inn for lunch, dinner, and occasionally a snack too. By the time we were in Calais, only myself and another passenger were left on the coach.

Took a boat to England. I had a chat with the guy who had booked the best cabin, convinced him not to undertake the journey: did he really wanted to visit his aunt in Sussex, he’d have to spend so many evenings telling her that she plays the harpsichord very well, which would be a lie, doesn’t he know that lying is a sin? It’s very likely that his choice will cause the aunt to leave her money to a cousin whom he hates. Well, he’s only got himself to blame.

Thank the Dark Lord, the weather was nice — not my doing.

Anyhow, now I’m in London. I could go back to France, but I think that this place has potential.

I’ll let you know.

 **Signed:** C.

* * *

####  **26th October 1793**

**To:** The Office of Heavenly Invoices

 **From:** The Principality Aziraphale 

**Subject:** Recent Miracle Usage 

To Whom It May Concern, 

In light of the recent memo I received on October the 16th, it seemed prudent to justify my actions in Paris, France on October the 17th. While I have received and taken in your criticism and have done my level best to reduce the number of miracles I have partaken in, I do feel the need to explain the necessity of my most recent ones. I had recently traveled to France to aid in the stabilization efforts in light of the recent revolution (or, more precisely, rebellion). While in France promoting normalcy, I was accosted by a band of rebels and sentenced to execution. While I intended to suffer my sentence with grace and dignity, I was able to convince the executioner of the unjust nature of his cause. He nobly agreed to trade his life for mine, having repented privately of his wrongdoings and reaffirmed the validity of the monarchy.

The miracle I employed thereafter was minor but necessary, as it would be extremely inappropriate to disrobe in front of a human. Additionally, this miracle was used to validate his commitment to the cause. 

I then took to the streets, dressed in his clothes, and shirked any duties befitting of an executioner, in an attempt to prove to the French rebels that their most esteemed leaders and judiciaries are as corrupt as they deem their nobles to be. I recognize the besmirchment to my image, but deemed it necessary to persuade any onlookers of the unjust nature of their attachment to their cause. Once on the boat back to London, I shed the disguise and shared a room with a very cantankerous fellow on his way to see an old friend. Through conversation and company, I did my level best to engage him in philosophical debate and prove that in matters of good and evil, good always triumphs. 

I do hope that the office will see that my actions, as unconventional as they might be, were in fact justified. As Gabriel has said to me on more than one occasion, the clothes do maketh the man, and my use of such has seemed to do exactly what I had intended. 

\- The Principality Aziraphale   
Soho, London

* * *

**_Pros and Cons of London: A List by Crowley_ **

**Pro:**

seeing the angel whenever I want

it keeps on raining, so it’s easier to make people miserable, and I’ve got more time to spend with the angel

food is worse, so I can miracle better food for the angel

theatres are better, so the angel and I can go out every night

the angel

**Con:**

seeing that the angel doesn’t want me

every time it rains, I think back to the first time I met the angel, and I realise that it’s almost 5800 years that he doesn’t want me

I keep on miracling better food for the angel, and then I think that if he wanted me I could make him moan for something that’s not food (i.e., me)

the angel and I go out every night, and I spend all the time looking at the angel, knowing that he doesn’t want me

the angel

* * *

####  **Aziraphale’s Journal**

_26 Oct. 1793_

_It’s been a total of ten days since Heaven’s last interruption in my life. I really ought not to think of it that way, but it does feel that way. I know they’re simply trying to do what’s best and keep my actions righteous, but they really don’t know what it’s like down here, do they? A frivolous miracle, as they like to call them, to disappear a puddle or heat a cup of cocoa might seem like a waste of time and energy, but they don’t understand it’s not at all worth it to go through the mundane little intricacies every time. And they’ve certainly never had to get their boots wet._

_But I really ought not be so bitter. It’s not their fault. They remain Upstairs and I was stationed down here, to guide and to teach and to do as they tell me. And really, it’s not all bad. I do enjoy the wonders humanity creates. The books, for starters. They’re always coming up with little stories of love and loss and triumph and regret. Their poetry has gotten me through years of silence from Head Office. And the food! Isn’t it a marvel that they’ll decide to eat just about anything, coat it in cream or butter, and share it with anyone. I often wonder if - well, I suppose it might be sacrilege to say so I best not commit it to words. Not that I expect anyone to ever see this journal — it’s kept locked up tight with the others, but still. Best not to dwell on thoughts of snakes and apples and the merits of things like curiosity._

_But I do seem to get myself in trouble for such things, don’t I? If Crowley hadn’t shown up when he did I surely would have been executed and that would have been such a hassle. He really can be quite dashing at times, especially in those tights of his. It’s a shame he’s been so far away for so long. I wouldn’t dare admit it to him — I’d never hear the end of it — but it is quite nice to have a companion down here, even if our meetings are years apart. He is never more than a letter away, but I do wish there was a way for the two of us to spend more time in each other’s company. Our Arrangement works nicely, but clandestine meetings every few years or so aren’t enough anymore, or so it seems. We spoke for quite a while on the boat back to London, and it was nice to simply sit and keep company without waiting for him to talk me into doing his job for him. I usually do, of course, but he is determined to coax me and I’d be remiss to stop him. It might damage his ego, after all. Not that I think Crowley has an ego problem, of course, but he does have some pride. What kind of angel would I be if I gave in too quickly and wounded him so? I wouldn’t dream of it._

_And of course, it is fun (another thing I wouldn’t dare admit to). It does get dreadfully rote around here. The advancements that have come about in recent years have made many things much more enjoyable, but it still gets rather lonely at times. I’m not quite sure what I would do if it weren’t for Crowley._

* * *

####  **_30th October 1793_ **

**To:** Head Office

 **From:** Crowley

 **Subject:** Potential for temptation in London

Hi there.

As per in my last report, I’ve made a detour in London, and you know me, always working, I kept my eyes open for opportunities. Well, guys: I think that this place is going to be _the_ hub for temptation in the next century. The French are going to lose, eventually, and the people here are going to tell everyone that they did it all by themselves. They’re going to be insufferable.

Also, I’ve seen that Upstairs has stationed its agent here, so they clearly have some plans we need to keep an eye on.

I’m attaching a detailed plan of action, and the receipts for the latest expenses (a townhouse in Mayfair, 12 bottles of Port, first edition of Don Quixote, open tab at the Wiltons’ oyster stall, two theatre tickets).

Let me know asap. 

**Signed:** C.

* * *

####  **_3rd January 1794_ **

_My Dear Crowley,_

_Please allow me to extend my congratulations on your recent relocation. It appears as though we’ll be spending a lot more time thwarting each other in the future, as I hear we’re going to be something of neighbours quite soon. If you’re so inclined, I’d be more than willing to show you around the city. There are quite a few places I’d imagine you’d find trouble and a lovely little coffee shop where you might find headway with more than a few political dissenters. Oh! And the coffee cake there is marvelous. I know you’d simply adore it._

_If you’d be so inclined, please meet me at the bookshop this Thursday. (Pay no mind to the hours, they’re for customers only. If the door is locked, let yourself in.) It would be my pleasure to show you some of the finer things that London has to offer._

_\- Aziraphale_


End file.
